Bewitched by a NonWitch
by Fairly Odd New Yorker
Summary: Constance Hardbroom is smitten by a certain non-witch. One-shot, Femslash HB/ID, inspired by Blondie47's fic 'Dance With Me'


**(A/N)**- Oddly enough this fic came out of listening to "All The Right Moves" by One Republic on teh bus. Do not ask. That song is like ... permanently attached to an original story of mine, sooo ... don't know how this sprung up. But it did. And here it is. Sneaky devil. Also, forgive any mistakes, I've given it a glance over and reworded a few things but it's nearing 1 am and I had a VERY unnecessarily stressful day, so ... accidents happen. Just be glad if it does it's a spelling / grammar accident and not a car accident, which very well might have happened. Totally learning to fly a broom instead.

Apologies if this is somewhat OOC! It is AU, obviously, hello, femslash? I cannot help myself.

I'm mad that this would've been a much better Valentine's Day fic than ... _whatever _that other one was. GUH.

OH! I also need to add that this was initially inspired by** Blondie47**'s fic 'Dance With Me'.

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>- Bewitched by a Non-Witch -<strong>

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><p>She takes me by the hand, and somehow, I allow her to lead me along, out into the open where everyone can see us. Of course, there are other people dancing as well, but there is no one out there quite as odd-looking as the pair of us.<p>

She turns to face me, yet she doesn't let go of my hand. I can feel our students' eyes upon us as I allow the non-witch to slide her other hand up my arm and place it on my shoulder. If we weren't surrounded by so many people I would've been more aware of her touch, for nothing else in the world exists except her, while we're alone. It's my fear that erases her. I'm afraid that the others will suspect …

A gentle squeeze breaks my thoughts and immediately my worried gaze flies to the stunning lady in red who is smiling confidently at me. I wish I had half as much courage as she did right now.

"Follow my lead," she says in a voice low enough for only me to hear, "Just relax, everything will be fine …"

I nod shortly in understanding, but the expression on my face must be betraying me, for she watches me with concern in her usual way, with her brows knitted ever so slightly and her smile, although she is smiling, is slightly strained as if she's just keeping it plastered on for my own sake.

I know her too well.

We've danced before, but always in private and always when we were feeling oddly more romantic as usual or just goofing off. I never thought I would ever be guilty of such a thing, _goofing off_ … it was what the students did more often than not. Not the strict no-nonsense Hardbroom. Never.

But since I've grown closer to Imogen Drill, it's become almost second nature … only when we're alone.

I follow her movements across the dance floor absentmindedly. Neither of us is close enough to one another to raise suspicion, but then again the two of us are viewed as mortal enemies to one another by many, so to be anywhere within five feet of each other without one making even the slightest remark of criticism was probably a sign of an oncoming apocalypse in the eyes of the Academy.

When I finally allow myself to cast a furtive glance about the floor, I realize no one seemed to take much notice of either of us. They did before, I felt their eyes, I heard their whispers … but now, we were no longer of any interest to them. We have become simply part of the atmosphere, drawing no concern or criticism. I hoped it would forever remain that way.

I soon realized where their attention was being drawn to. Another gay couple, supposedly. Well, I shouldn't make that assumption … they were both male, and they were both making quite a spectacle of themselves.

"OUCH! Algernon, that's my _foot_!"

"It's not my fault you've got two left feet!"

I fight back a grin of amusement but I don't bother to turn and look at them. I won't give Hellebore the satisfaction. Imogen, on the other hand, can see them from where she's dancing and has no choice. She immediately succumbs to a fit of giggles, taking her hand from my arm in a feeble attempt to hide her laughter.

Utterly useless_._

I love how her face lights up. She is all the more beautiful when she smiles. I think I may have fallen in love with her smile first, before everything else about her drove me crazy.

I also love that her other hand still hasn't left mine, and daringly I brush my pale thumb across her tanned skin.

I did not mean for her to notice it, but she did. Her green eyes glittered in the light of the dance floor and she quickly forgot the idiots across the room.

My fear seems to have left me completely, and now all I want is to kiss her softly and whisper how much I love her … but I still know my place. I am aware of where we are and who might see us, and I won't take the risk.

I know I can't kiss her, but …

"I love you," I breathe quietly, almost inaudibly, but I'm sure she heard it. She couldn't have just read my lips for they barely moved, I am too numbed by the reality of the situation. I never thought I'd confess such a thing anywhere else than in the safety of my own bedroom.

She blushes almost instantly, and smiles shyly as if she's hearing it for the first time. I've said it enough times in the past few months, it really is a wonder her ear hasn't fallen off yet. I've said it enough times to embarrass myself over the constant admittance of something that was completely obvious to her without my voicing it. Still, the woman never fails to look like she's going to melt into a puddle on the floor whenever I repeat that truth.

_Ridiculous_ woman. Absolutely silly.

How I adore her.

She probably thinks that all the stress she's put me under, being together out in public and all, has caused me to lose control of my senses. Gently she leads me away and out of the spotlight, and we express our feelings to one another, alone in the cover of the night, in the hallowed halls of Cackle's Academy.


End file.
